


The One Where There Is Bacon

by mikkimouse



Series: Operation Fluff [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Werefox Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: Stiles is a hurt fox, Derek is a werewolf out in the middle of nowhere.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr [here.](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/post/146666147710/if-you-are-still-doing-the-fluffy-prompt-thing)

Stiles takes a deep breath and winces at the pull in his side. He’s going to need to stay shifted for a little longer, let himself heal up some more. That mountain lion was not fucking around.

He eyes the man walking around the the cabin, the one who found him hiding in the tree stump, the one who cleaned and bandaged his wounds. He’s not sure what the guy is doing out here, other than puttering around the little kitchen and frying up what smells like bacon.

Stiles really loves bacon.

The guy half-turns toward him and Stiles immediately closes his eyes. He’s pretty sure the guy doesn’t realize he’s something other than a regular fox, and Stiles wants to keep it that way. No sense in upsetting this poor mountain man’s way of life.

Although the guy _is_ pretty hot. Like, stunningly so. Stiles is going to have to find his way back out here as a human and see if he can strike up a conversation, even though there is absolutely no way this guy would every go out with someone like him. Tall, gangly, nerdy, were!fox? Too many strikes against him.

Still, it would be nice to flirt.

The guy pulls some bacon off the frying pan and sets it on the towel where Stiles is curled up. “I know you’re not asleep,” the guy says. “But let that cool off a bit before you eat it.”

Stiles opens one eye. How did this guy know he wasn’t actually asleep?

But the guy’s already back over at the stove, humming to himself while he cooks.

Tentatively, Stiles nips at the bacon. It’s still too hot to eat, but his stomach is growling enough that he’s seriously considering dealing with a burned mouth just to have some food.

“I know you’re healing and you’re hungry, but just be patient. It’ll cool off in another thirty seconds,” the guy says.

Stiles lifts his head to look at him. Does this guy always talk to animals like this?

The guy turns off the stove and leans his hip on the counter, turning to face Stiles. “My name’s Derek,” he says. “And I’m guessing you can understand every word I say.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. What if this guy’s a hunter? Stiles’s eyes dart around the cabin, seeking an exit. He’s still injured, but maybe he’s healed enough–

The guy strides over and holds out his hand, like he wants Stiles to sniff it. “I’m a friend,” he says gently. “I’m not a hunter. You can listen to my heart and tell if I’m lying, can’t you?”

Stiles holds back, tense. He still doesn’t know anything about this guy–except that his name is Derek and he cooks bacon and he is pretty good at this animal first aid thing–so he’s not quite willing to make any friendly overtures.

However, Derek’s heartbeat hasn’t changed at all. And he looks so earnest and…okay, Stiles really wants to trust him. He knows he shouldn’t. But he does.

“I’m a shifter as well,” Derek says. “Not a fox, though. I’m a werewolf. And you’re safe here.”

Stiles gapes at him. It’s more of a human expression than a fox one but he can’t help it. He _gapes_. What in the world is a werewolf doing alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods?

Derek picks up a piece of bacon and breaks it in half. “Here, eat. I could hear your stomach growling from across the room.”

Tentatively, Stiles takes the bacon, which has cooled off enough to eat. It’s delicious, and he mows through the rest.

Midway through his second piece, Derek starts scratching behind his ears, and the pain in his side and his leg fades. Stiles relaxes bit by bit, until he’s practically a puddle in his towels. Never mind, Derek is clearly awesome. Anyone who gives out bacon and ear scratches is a god amongst mortals.

“You should get some sleep,” Derek says. “You’ve had a long day. But if you’re up for it, I hope you’ll shift back tomorrow. I’d like to have a two-sided conversation, if we can.”

Stiles snorts and whacks his tail against Derek’s wrist.

Derek smiles. It’s…astoundingly beautiful. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Stiles whacks him with his tail again, and Derek laughs softly.

Tomorrow, he’ll suck it up and shift back and find out what Derek’s doing out here, why he’s not with his pack. But for now, Stiles falls asleep with the warmth of Derek’s fingers scratching behind his ears and taking his pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr [here.](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/post/146755951725/what-but-why-is-derek-there-alone-in-the-cabin)

Stiles wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar room. He’s sore and disoriented, and for a moment he thinks he’s dreaming until he realizes he’s curled on someone’s chest and they have a hand buried in his fur.  


He raises his head from his paws. He’s on top of Derek, who is stretched out on the overstuffed couch and snoring softly. Stiles rises and falls with each breath Derek takes. It’s a weirdly intimate sensation.  


Stiles stretches, cataloguing his injuries from yesterday. He’s still sore, but in that “spent all night healing” sort of way rather than “gushing blood from mortal wounds” sort of way. Really, he’ll take the former.  


He stands gingerly, testing his leg and his side, and then jumps down to the floor to shift back and go hit the bathroom before his bladder explodes.

The cabin’s not huge, just one bedroom that Stiles can see, but it’s well-furnished and clean and looks like Derek’s either been living here awhile or comes here often. Stiles doesn’t have the faintest idea where he is in relation to where left his car; once the mountain lion started chasing him, his only thought was getting the hell out of there.  


He does his business, then washes his face and brushes his teeth with his finger and some borrowed toothpaste. He looks a bit too pale right now and his eyes are bloodshot, but that’s probably just because he’s still healing.  


He walks back into the main room, intending to head to the kitchen and hunt down some more bacon and maybe some orange juice. Derek’s sitting up on the sofa, rubbing hands through his black hair, and his eyes widen when he spots Stiles.  


That’s when Stiles remembers he’s completely naked.  


“Uh.” For once in his life, he’s utterly at a loss for words. “Hi.”  


Derek throws him the towel he’d been sleeping on, and Stiles gratefully wraps it around his waist. He doesn’t have many hangups about being naked, but he’s a little insecure standing in the buff with one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen right across from him.  


“Are you the fox?” Derek asks.  


Stiles nods, clinging to the towel at his waist like a lifeline. “Yeah, I’m Stiles. Thanks for the save.”  


Derek stands up and walks into the kitchen. “The mountain lions are out in force this year,” he mutters. “I can’t tell you how many animals I’ve found that needed help. You’re the first shifter, though.”  


Stiles sighs and sits at the kitchen table. “That’s what I get for trying a new trail.”

“Hiking?”  


“Nah, just out for a run. School’s been kicking my ass for the past three months and I haven’t had a chance.” Stiles stretches. It still feels like his body’s a bit too big for him. “I just get, like, itchy, you know? Like something’s clawing at the inside of my head and I can’t concentrate on anything and I just want to shift and run and get the world to stop for awhile.”  


Derek nods. “I get that.”  


“Anyway, my buddy Scott–he’s a werewolf, too–told me about this trail that he and his friend Isaac have been going on for their own runs and suggested I give it a try.” Stiles rubs the back of his neck. “He neglected to mention the mountain lions.”  


“Probably never had a problem with them,” Derek says. “They tend to steer clear of wolves, and I used to not see them as much near the trail. I think they’re getting braver, though.”  


“My bad luck, then,” Stiles mutters, and rests his head on the table. “So do you live out here, or what?”  


“Have for the past two months.” Derek sets a glass of orange juice on the table and pulls out the pan Stiles saw him cooking with last night. “You want some breakfast? Bacon and eggs?”

“Oh God yes please,” Stiles says with no small amount of enthusiasm. He’s starving. “Just two months?”  


Derek breaks eggs into a bowl and beats them. “Trying to break away from the world long enough to finish my dissertation.”  


“Oh yeah?” Stiles raises his eyebrows; he wouldn’t have picked up that this guy was gunning for a PhD. “What’s your field? I’m assuming some kind of lumberjack, but…”  


Derek laughs. “Languages, actually. Linguistics.”

That’s pretty freaking impressive, Stiles has to admit. “You bilingual?”  


“Trilingual, and working on number four.” Derek ducks his head and pours the eggs into the pan. “I speak English, Spanish, and Japanese, and I’m learning Russian.”  


Stiles’s eyes bug out. “You…what, seriously? That’s pretty hot, dude.”  


Derek stiffens, and Stiles immediately wants to take the words back.  


“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  


“It’s okay,” Derek says evenly.  


Yeah, Stiles doesn’t buy that for a minute. “No, look, if you just point me in the direction of the South Bear Lake trail, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Derek gives him a flat look. “You’re naked.”  


“I could just shift. I’ll be–”

“And get attacked by a mountain lion again?” Derek rolls his eyes. “Just sit here and have some breakfast. I’ll drive you back to your car when we’re done.”

Stiles opens his mouth to argue again, and Derek shoves a piece of toast in it.  


“I’m not into one-night stands,” Derek says while Stiles’s mouth is full. “Or hook-ups, or…anything like that. I have to get to know someone first, build a connection. And even then, it’s a toss-up. I’ve had a lot of people see me and assume otherwise, and it’s…” He frowns. “I don’t like it. So if that’s all you’re looking for–”  


Stiles swallows his mouthful of bread and takes the piece of toast out of his mouth. “What if it’s not?”  


Derek pauses over the stove, and then goes back to scrambling the eggs. “What do you mean?”  


There’s no way Derek can’t hear his heart ready to ricochet out of his chest. Stiles takes a deep breath and forges on. “Dude, you found me hiding in a tree stump, carried me to your house, bandaged me up, and took my pain all night. Now I find out you’re a polyglot werewolf getting his PhD and you can cook? Yeah. I would love to get to know you better, just as friends, or maybe potentially more than friends. If you’d want that, obviously. If you don’t, then just say so and I will start talking about Star Wars movies until I get back to my car, because I can’t shut up when I’m nervous or embarrassed, and let’s be honest, by that time dropping me off at my car will be a relief for both of us.”

Derek scoops the eggs onto two plates and slides one in front of Stiles. “You can talk about Star Wars for that long?”  


“I can talk about anything for that long,” Stiles assures him. “I wrote a ten-page paper on the history of male circumcision for my high school economics class. Coach Finstock still gave me an A when I tied it into economic theory.”  


Derek laughs. “My sympathies to your TAs.”  


“Hey, I am a fucking _delight_ in class, I’ll have you know.”

They bicker back and forth as Derek cooks. Stiles talks more about his own classes and frowns at Derek’s bacon-frying technique; Derek flicks water at him and tells him not to criticize the famous Hale bacon-frying. That leads to a discussion about Derek’s family (large and loving) and then Stiles’s (smaller but no less loving) and the next thing Stiles knows, they’ve finished breakfast and Derek’s driving him back to the trail head, where the Jeep is still standing.  


“Thanks for the ride. And the breakfast. And the pain drain. And the clothes,” Stiles says, picking at the oversized sweats Derek let him borrow. “I’ll just, uh, get out of your hair.”  


“Wait.” Derek scribbles something on a slip of paper and hands it over. “I usually take a break on Saturdays and come back into town for a few hours to clear my head. If you’d like to get together and get coffee or something.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “And give me back my clothes.”  


Stiles looks at the paper. It’s a phone number, with _Derek Hale_ written underneath it. There goes his heart, hammering like a drum again. “You, ah, just want to get your clothes back?”  


Derek shrugs, a smile playing on his face. “That, and maybe get to know you a little better. If you’d like that.”  


“Yes! Yes, I would definitely like that.” Stiles clutches the number to his chest. “I would like that so very much.”  


“Great.” Derek’s still grinning and it’s doing things to Stiles’s heart. “So. I’ll see you Saturday?”  


“Yes. Definitely. Saturday.” Stiles feels like one of those water-drinking birds with the way his head is bobbing up and down. “I’ll call you? Or text?”  


“Both work for me.”

Stiles smiles so wide it feels like his face is going to crack. “Awesome.”  



End file.
